Secrets of Burning
I sit here with the smell of chlorine on my skin
in quiet contemplation of you.
The ghost of our last touch lingers and haunts me,
and I would smile for hours if I could wrap myself
in the scent of your hair.
I see your smile in the curling undulation of smoke
I can remember every place you have touched me.
If I could,
I would become for you
The Water of Life
and you would drink from me
and never thirst.
Oh, devour me like fire
Like the burning of your eyes
Like the burning of my skin all the places you have touched.
I miss you, and it aches.
I know how dry wood feels just before the flames
I know how water feels before it boils.
I want to fall out of skies
Into your embrace
I am not the water of life
But I can be steam.
I can be vapor where I boil at your touch.
I can be the brightness of flame
Where I knelt at your kiss.
Written at around 8:30am on Friday morning December 8, 2000 after swimming.